Do you recognize the person pictured in the center above, complete with one of her "pets?"  If you do, it dates you because she died in 1925 after a lifetime spent in Howe and the surrounding countryside.  Yes, it's "Chrissy, the Skunk Woman," about whom not a great deal was ever learned, as she was not a "Talker."

Bits gleaned by the Howe correspondent, Mrs. Fay Hart, from other residents of the Howe community bring out a few facts.  The picture was taken some time before her death and the man on the left has been identified by Mrs. Andrew Cook as Frank Kirkdorfer, a former grocery store owner in Wolcottville.  The identity of the other man is not known.

Christina Hand, as the story goes, was born in the Valley Forge neighborhood, southwest of Howe, about the year 1838 and rumors indicate that she and her mother hauled ties to build the G R and I railroad through Howe around 1870.  She was supposedly married three or four times and her last husband was Mike Sullivan, who was killed on the railroad she helped build, several years before her death.

Chrissy made pets not only of skunks, but cats, dogs, and chickens and at one time had a crow.  She was indescribably dirty and was always attired in men's shoes and old ragged clothing.  Pernicious anemia was thought to be her last illness.  Near the end of her life the residents of Howe built her a new home and sought to improve her living habits.  Senility and the anemic condition caused her death at the approximate age of 87 on November 15, 1925.  She is buried in Riverside Cemetery, Howe, IN. *




"Chrissy," the woman who made Howe famous, is gone.  "Crissy, the skunk woman," as she was called, departed this life last Sunday morning about seven o'clock, after an illness of several months from stomach trouble.  Funeral service were held Monday afternoon at the little new home which townspeople had aided on building with the Rev. W. G. Ritkin of the Presbyterian church officiating.  After a scripture reading and a prayer, the body of Crissy was taken to the old burial ground back of Riverside cemetery at Howe and laid beside her last husband, Michael E. Sullivan.  That is, presumably, for no stone stands to mark mr. Sullivan's resting place.
   
Who was Crissy, and why did she live as she did in filth and squalor, with only skunks and other wild pets for company?  Did she choose her mode of living because of a broken heart, a bitter disappointment with the world?  There is no mystery about Crissy 's life, nor is there any romance.  A great deal has been written by powerful imaginations about the little old woman who lived in a dirty, tumbled down shack at the edge of Howe and who was on speaking terms with skunks, but most of it was wrote in vain.

Christina Hand, for that was her maiden name, was born in the northeast corner of Clay Township, LaGrange County, so many years ago and so unknown to the world that little is definite as to her age.  Some time ago she remarked that she went to school with Silas McManus, the famous poet whom Howe justly claims; who taught in the neighborhood, but she sadly stated she "couldn't learn nothin."  That would place her age at about eighty. 

Her parents, so the story runs, were drowned one evening in Buck Lake, near their home, while on a fishing trip.  It seems that while slightly under the influence of liquor, a quarrel was stated in the boat, but who won was never known, for both toppled over into the water and passed from this world, leaving Crissy behind.

But Crissy was of an age at that time to fend for herself.  With her father she had helped haul ties to the new railroad that was pushing its way back into LaGrange County, the single line of steel that in the north was opening up the unexplored miles of Michigan to the lumber men.

If you want romance in her life, you may call her a pioneer.  With her own hands, for she often jumped down from her wagon to swing the ties into place; she aided in the building of the roadway that opened up the rich farming country in which we now live in comparative comfort.  But as she lived to see the luxurious motorbus roll by her door and the airplane fly swiftly over her head, she slipped back into the animal world, to the simplicity she understood.

She gradually fell into filthy habits, entirely forgetting the cleansing properties of water until her skin became a mottled gray, and her neighbors shunned her. Crissy added to her odorous quarantine by keeping skunks as pets, but she had a keen idea as to the value of skunk fur and long before skunk raising became a commercial enterprise, she was accumulating each year a creditable sum from her venturesome business.  Seldom was she in actual want, as many seemed to think, and in the town of Howe there were always a few friends in whom she trusted and who helped her a bit in matters of financial advice.

She had no thought for the styles of the day.  An old skirt, a woolen jacket and a calico waist, no stockings, and men's shoes comprised her wardrobe.  And in her shack, down by the cemetery, there was no furniture, only a box for a table and a pile of straw for bed.  Yet she was content.

During the last few years Crissy had more visitors than she cared for and more publicity than the people of Howe felt necessary.  An enlarged photograph displayed in Elkhart bearing the caption, "If you want to see the dirtiest woman in the world, go to Howe," started hundreds to satisfy their curiosity.  Newspapers in neighboring counties expressed surprise that the supposedly enlightened town of Howe would tolerate such a person.

However, Howe knew Crissy, and Crissy knew Howe, and together they had lived without damage to the self-respect of either, going their own ways.  But the publicity she was getting began to worry the people of Howe a bit, and a fund was started to build her a new home.  Crissy, to everyone's surprise, had a little money of her own, and it was with her savings, added to the sale of her picture, that a new abode was built.  She submitted to a good "Clean-up," gave up her skunks, and donned fresh apparel, for she was glad to do anything for her friends in Howe.

But a recurrence of stomach troubles, which had weakened Crissy considerably in the last year or so brought her to her bed and she had been a resident of her new home only a month or so when she died.  Nor was it a pining for her old habits, her pets which she gave up, that brought her eccentric life to its close, for Crissy rather enjoyed being clean and apparently looked forward to a new life.

Just how many times was Crissy married is a matter for dispute.  Some say three times, some say four, but at any rate her lst husband was Michael Sullivan, who  while tramping the country with an umbrella mender some thirty or so years back, took a fancy to Howe and to Crissy and decided to stay.  Mr. Sullivan will be remembered by many in Howe as a willing worker, but a little addicted to strong drink,  It was liquor that hastened his end about twenty five years ago.  Returning one evening from Sturgis, he used the Grand Rapids and Indiana Railway track as a resting place where he might clear his slightly muddled head.  His body, cut to pieces, was found after the southbound evening train had passed.

No one seems to know whether Crissy had any children or not.  Some say there was a a daughter living in Grand Rapids, but the fact cannot be verified.  A nephew, the son of a half-sister, owned a small store in Howe many years ago and some of the land east of the station is still in his name.  It is said he lives in Chicago now, but no one is sure. 

Though nobody knows the intimate facts of Crissy's life, Crissy could relate many stories of old-settler days in Lima township.  She and her father often carted grain to the old distillery in Howe and wool to the mill at Ontario.  Just a few months ago she recalled the od days when rabbit-skin shoes were very common.

Crissy left to the world a reputation and a few lots of land in the town of Howe, and Judge James S. Drake this week appointed Samuel B. Nichols of Howe administrator of her estate.

Crissy, the skunk woman, is gone.  Thousands in nearby counties, town and cities have seen her, perhaps talked to her, for she was pleasant spoken, even merry, at times.  Her fame was built solely upon a structure of dirt and skunks, and a suggestion of mystery because she chose to live apart.

---

Howe, Ind. - Her name was Christina Hand Sullivan, but to everyone in northern Indiana and southern Michigan she was always called "Crissy, the skunk woman."  A daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Mason Hand, pioneer settlers in the Howe area, Crissy for some reason turned her back on propriety and another mainstay in the social world - soap and water.

Crissy lived in a ramshackle old building off a main road in LaGrange County and attracted tourists from several states after word got around about her weird habits: Crissy always solved visitors and graciously invited them inside her unkempt home.  The main attraction to visitors - other that Crissy herself - was a skunk, "Old Rover," which she loved dearly and carried around in her arms.  The skunk returned the love and would wrap his front legs around her neck in obvious adoration.

Other Pets, Too - That wasn't the only pet Crissy had.  She also delighted in showing people the many lizards and snakes which were allowed to travel freely in the home.  Crissy sure had an aversion to cleanliness - and her person and home showed it.  One could barley maneuver through a narrow passageway in the shack, cluttered with refuse and dirt. 

But it was Crissy who was the real drawing card to the morbid visitors.  She wore torn, begrimed clothes, men's work shoes and her hair was matted with filth. But Crissy didn't mind folks staring.  She would even sing and dance for them upon request and enjoyed the gifts of coins they would bestow upon her.  She used the money to fee her many pets.

Reasons Unknown - Little is known about her early background, or what happened in her family.  Crissy always told folks her parents were buried in a county cemetery and she also said she had a daughter in Grand Rapids.  Crissy boasted of four marriages, but no one was certain where the truth ended with Crissy, or why she had decided to live in such circumstances.  According to old newspaper account, Crissy enjoyed surprising visitors who wondered what was in the boxes stacked high along the walls of the living room.  She would hasten to open boxes and show the people the many baby skunks inside.

Neighbors' Gift - There was talk around the neighborhood that Crissy had been spurned in an early romance and that she had turned away from conventional living to reside in her shack, but nobody could prove it.  Her neighbors were compassionate where Crissy was concerned.  Shortly before her death, Crissy's neighbors decided to do something for her. The didn't attempt to put her in an institution.  Crissy wasn't crazy - just odd.  The friends built a new home for Crissy and furnished it.  And then they did the unthinkable.  The y gave Crissy a bath. 

That was the hardest thing of all - for both Crissy and the well-meaning neighbors.  The report was the stench was nearly unbearable.  Crissy thought the new home was wonderful, though.  And she loved to show it off.  But Crissy was not to enjoy it long.  She died about a year after the home was built, the new articles relate.  Folks in the neighborhood, who had accepted Crissy for what she was - a human being - attended her funeral.  Crissy would have loved that.

---

In the town of LaGrange, Ind., resides the father of Alfred Packer, now serving a 40 year sentence in the Colorado State Penitentiary for murder and cannibalism.  Alfred Packer's crime, according to his own confession, was one of the most shocking of which there is in any record.  With a party of five companions, he was lost in the mountains in Utah while prospecting in 1874, and he killed them and ate their flesh.  He was arrested, but made his escape into Montana, but ten years later was again arrested and convicted.  He now wants a pardon and his father, who is 91 years old, will try to assist him in getting it.  There is a man living in Angola today, who, in 1879, shared the same bunk with this terrible outlaw and criminal, in a lonely cabin on the banks of Ruby river, Madison County, Montana, about 12 miles below the original capital, Virginia City.  But at that time the criminal assumed another name and the Angola man was unconscious of the fact that for many nights he slept side by side with as great a criminal as ever lived in the wild and woolly west. - LaGrange Standard, LaGrange, Ind., September 1897

Look for more Packer Mania soon . . .

---

"The Newspapers last Friday contained a notice of the deal at a hospital in Lafayette of Harry  E. Williams, aged 63, formerly an actor of prominence.  He was the son of "Billy" Williams of Warsaw, Indiana, who represented the old Tenth district, including LaGrange County, in the national congress from 1865-1873, and was minister to Uruguay and Paraguay during the Garfield administration.  Old Settlers remember the Billy William campaigns for congress as very uproarious affairs.  Especially was there a great debate between Billy and his Democratic opponent, Andrew Ellison, in the old frame schoolhouse at LaGrange.  The building was then unfinished, and the crowd, after filling the floor, climbed up on the girders."
 
Source: This following information was taken from the personal Scrapbook of Homer Brown's estate (Brushy Prairie) that was donated to the LaGrange Historical Society by Mr. & Mrs. Cecil Hayward.  Some dated were written on the articles while others had nothing.  Most articles came from LaGrange or Steuben County papers.

---